Back view of a young woman looking into the sunset.

Offer it Up

Offer it Up

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed.”—1 Peter 4:12–13 (RSVCE)

Lent is approaching soon. As Catholics, it is during Lent—a season of penitence—that we often give up things we enjoy, or take on a little something extra: any little bit of suffering to help train us spiritually.

But sometimes we don’t need to go looking for trials. . . sometimes, trials find us. This is one of the world’s biggest issues with Catholicism: how could a loving God allow good people to go through hardship? The reason the world is so confused, though, is because that is the wrong perspective to have.

Even Jesus suffered while He was on Earth. But Jesus’ Suffering and Death on the Cross weren’t pointless—it was the price it took to win our souls back from the power of darkness and bring us back into the kingdom of light. And because of what Jesus did on that Cross, if we so choose to join our sufferings to His, every little cross Christ hands us can be the price for souls.

God doesn’t call us to pick out our crosses. He calls us to pick them up.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give ourselves little penances, but it does mean we shouldn’t expect that to be the only suffering we ever have to face. And when unexpected and unasked-for trials do arise, we should thank God for the opportunity to help Him save souls. . . and then offer it up.

© Isabelle Wood 2025

Edited by Gabriella Batel

Privacy Act

Privacy Act


By Lisa Livezey


Their faces were turned away, and they did not see their father’s nakedness.
—Genesis 9:23 (RSVCE)


It was a Tuesday evening when I encountered my younger brother in the hospital hallway outside the room where Dad had been admitted the day prior. He approached me, frustrated. “They won’t tell me anything,” he said. “You have to give them permission.” As the person named by Dad to access his medical records, I needed to provide specific names of those who could receive information about Dad’s condition. Stopping at the nurse’s station, I gave approval that my brother’s questions be answered and from then on, he barely left Dad’s bedside.


Adopted by my parents at age four, my brother was thankful for Mom and Dad’s provision of a stable home in time of need and was deeply bonded with Dad. I greatly appreciated his compassionate presence and emotional support at this time.


Entering the hospital room, I noticed Dad had loose pajama pants on beneath his hospital gown. Thus far, he had worn the standard hospital frock— tied at the neck and open down the back. The pants, although less convenient for hospital staff, offered coverage, and I felt a sense of relief at the increased decency. I later learned that my son-in-law insisted on this measure of propriety, advocating for Dad and thus protecting his dignity.


Pray: Thank you, Lord, for privacy measures and the protections they bring—both legal and physical.

Reflect: Think about the safety and comfort that privacy offers when you’re feeling vulnerable. Are there ways to uphold your loved one’s dignity? Ask God for the means and strength.


(^The author’s brother rarely left their father’s bedside during the week “Privacy Act” took place.)
___________________________________________________________
The above selection is Entry #3 in Part I: Unexpected Fall of Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey (© 2024, En Route Books and Media)
Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey | En Route Books and Media
Listen to the audio version of “Privacy Act” read by the author.

Praying with the Saints

Praying with the Saints

“A slice of hope to raise faithful kids.”

This uplifting, ecumenical show uses engaging conversations and fun entertainment reviews to offer positive insights and media resources for families and youth leaders. We discuss current issues that impact young people at home, in school, and in the world today.

In this episode of The Shepherd’s Pie, Antony Barone Kolenc speaks with Belinda Terro Mooney about the spiritual benefits of praying with the saints, especially those who are lesser known or appreciated, and we discuss her book, Pray With Us: A Saint for Every Day.

 

 

Check out other episodes of The Shepherd’s Pie.

 

The Shepherd's Pie: Praying with the Saints


Copyright 2025 Antony Barone Kolenc
Image copyright 2025 Antony Barone Kolenc, all rights reserved.

Announcing Alzheimer’s

Announcing Alzheimer’s

By Lisa Livezey

Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what any day may bring forth.

– Proverbs 27:1 (NAB)

I stopped by my parents’ split-level suburban home for a quick visit and Mom met me at the door. “Lisa, I have ALZHEIMERS!!!!” she pronounced with angst. Dad stood in the background smiling tenderly.

The news was no surprise. In fact, Mom had announced her diagnosis to me three times already.

In a flash moment, I considered Mom’s exemplary life. She was a faithful wife, mother and grandmother, a registered nurse, volunteer librarian, had taken in foster children, kept an immaculate, organized home, and even led Bible studies.  She doted on her grandchildren, who hold happy memories of time spent at “Gigi and Pop’s” house along with weekends camping in the mountains.

Now at age 82, Mom was descending from the mountains and gazing despairingly upon the wilderness of Alzheimer’s disease.  For one so capable, no doubt the future appeared bleak and scary.

Giving her a hug, I said, “Don’t worry, Mom. It’ll be okay.”  Surely God would provide the daily help she needed, just as He had during her more productive years.

I knew Mom was in good hands with Dad’s stabilizing presence beside her. He capably handled Mom’s health issues and certainly would be her continued comfort and guide amidst the changing landscape of her brain.

Lord, Thank you for today. I know not what tomorrow holds, so help me to trust You with the future.

Reflect: Think about loved ones in your life who are experiencing change due to age or illness and offer up a prayer for each one.

 

The author’s parents, Christmas 2016, six months
before “Announcing Alzheimer’s” took place

___________________________________________________________

The above blog piece is the Prologue in Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey (© 2024, En Route Books and Media)

Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey | En Route Books and Media

Listen to the audio version of “Announcing Alzheiemer’s” read by the author.

 

Copyright 2025 Lisa Livezey

Why I Wear a Chapel Veil and an Unexpected Benefit

Why I Wear a Chapel Veil and an Unexpected Benefit

At every Mass and each time I am in a place with Jesus truly present in the Eucharist, I don my chapel veil.

I’ve been wearing a mantilla for just over a year. I’m not the only one in my parish, but we are among the vast minority. Today, canon law doesn’t require women to cover their heads. Yet, though entirely optional, veiling at Mass is a beautiful way to outwardly express your reverence: at its core, wearing a chapel veil is a tangible expression of awe and humility before the Eucharist.

What initially sparked my interest was that the women who wore chapel veils in my parish were the women whom I wanted to be like. I knew some of them personally, and their entire lives bore witness to Christianity. For them, the Faith wasn’t something practiced for an hour on Sundays; their entire lives embodied it.

For months I admired their mantillas from afar, still unsure if I had the confidence to pull one off. I felt nervous about drawing attention to myself. Yet, week after week, I found myself thinking about veiling for Mass.

Thus began the Great Internet Search of 2023. I sought out every article I could find about women wearing mantillas. I read about the history, why the practice stopped, and why women do choose to veil. I learned how it serves as a physical reminder to focus our minds and hearts on the presence of Christ in the Eucharist, fostering a deeper sense of spiritual connection and intimacy with God. In a world filled with distractions, the simple act of covering one’s head can create a sacred space for prayer and contemplation.

I was especially drawn to the fact that veiling means embracing my femininity. Men have never covered their heads. (In fact, the canon law was to uncover their heads, hence the tradition of removing hats when entering a church). Some movements in the secular world espouse that women should do everything the same as men, but the Church (and I) says, “Thank You, God, that men and women are different yet equal in dignity.” I am a beautiful, feminine woman, and wearing a lace veil is overtly embracing that.

I also felt compelled to have a sacred item I only wear for Jesus. I always try to dress up for Mass, but sometimes (particularly on weekdays or during very cold weather) my attire is less than glamorous. As I pilgrimaged around Poland last month, jeans were typical during Mass. Yet every time I stepped into a church, I wore my veil to remind myself in Whose presence I was.

The clincher was that Mary is never depicted without a head covering. This struck me right to the heart. I desire to be like Mary, to follow in her footsteps of faith, helping draw others to Christ. I aim to echo her Fiat throughout my life. Choosing to veil ultimately came down to my desire to be like her.

I took the plunge and haven’t looked back. I felt a little nervous and self-conscious the first time, but that quickly dissipated. I don’t worry about what anyone else thinks because I know my reasons: I seek to please God and detach from the opinions of others. Veiling is automatic for me now. If I do happen to forget my veil, I feel underdressed, regardless of what clothes I’m wearing. 

And now, I recognize a completely unexpected benefit of wearing a veil at Mass. My veil hangs onto my forehead and around my face, creating a little cove just for me. The veil blocks out distractions in my peripheral vision like horses wearing blinders in a parade. When I sit at Mass and gaze at the altar, I don’t see the movements of those around me like I used to. My vision is limited to what—Who—is in front of me. My veil reminds me of what my focus should be on, and helps me keep that focus. An unexpected gift from a simple mantilla.

If you’re discerning wearing a chapel veil, I encourage you to pray about it and listen to how the Holy Spirit is moving in your heart. There is no list of reasons for or against veiling that can compare with hearing the call from within you.

© Maria Riley 2024

What’s Your Name?

What’s Your Name?

“What’s your name?” is probably the easiest question we can answer. The name we are known by. It’s the name our parents gave us, and maybe they put effort into choosing the right one to set us on our life path. In the past, babies were often named after an elder or someone in the Bible. That name was given to them upon their Baptism: their Christian name. Catholics, at Confirmation, take the name of a saint they want to emulate. In modern times, the Sacrament of Baptism, too often, is not a priority or consideration for parents and they choose names that are meant to be historical, inspiring, courageous, regal, or just “different.”

We all have another designation, one far more important and beautiful than any label loving parents can bestow upon us: the name God has given us. ike many of the things He creates, it’s a mystery that we will know one day, but not in this earthly life.

Appellations are important to God. He tells us many times. We see in the first chapter in Genesis how much he loves to title each one of his masterpieces: “God called the light ‘day’ and the darkness he called ‘night’” (Gen. 1:5). And: “God called the dome ‘sky.’” (Gen. 1:8). “God called the dry land ‘earth’ and the basin of water ‘sea’” (Gen. 1:10). The chapter goes on, right down to “… creatures that crawl the earth” and “green plants for food” (Gen. 1:30). A creator who knows us so well, he’s counted the hairs on our head and desires the deepest and most intimate relationship with each of us (cf. Mt. 10:30). Surely, he’s dubbed us individually with names that reflect that longing. In fact, in Isaiah 43:1, the Lord has said, “I have called you by name, and you are mine.”

Our name “… expresses a person’s essence and identity and the meaning of this person’s life,” explains The Catechism of the Catholic Church in article 203. We have well-known examples of God changing names, or giving a variant, to reflect of new mission. Abram became Abraham when God made him the “father of a multitude of nations” (Gen. 17:5). What other names from the Bible might reveal God’s charges for his flock? The apostle Barnabas has, according to Acts 4:36, a name that means “Son of Encouragement” and he was a supporter of Paul (who was still going by Saul at the time) before a skeptical troupe of apostles (cf. 9:27). Michael means “Who is like God?” Nathanael means “God has given.” Joshua to Jesus means Yahweh is salvation (Behind the Name).

Deacon Harold Burke-Sivers of the Diocese of Portland, Oregon addresses an important question we need to consider: are we living a life that is at least attempting to be worthy of a name God would give us?

“Is it ‘parked in front of the television?’ Is it ‘never pray with my spouse?’” He posed the issue in a humorous, yet serious way in his April 20, 2023 reflection on the USCCB website. He links the question of identity with cultural demands to rename and re-identify ourselves, warning of the threat to our eternal salvation by complying with modern social fads rather than God.

What do we want to be? We strive to be diligent employees to achieve raises and promotions; good parents to raise independent children; honest business owners to keep and attract customers. But who do we try to be for God? What does God call us to be? Would our Godly name reflect our greatest strength or perhaps reveal our greatest struggle? It is somewhat ironic that God chose Simon, a man who expertly made a living on an unpredictable, fluid surface, to become Peter―Rock―a sturdy and stalwart foundation on which to build his church. His original name, Simon, means “hearing, listening.” He must have listened intently when God spoke to him to be the one who recognized that the Jesus was the Messiah when all the others missed it.

“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father” (Mt 16:17).

In another bit of irony, Paul means “small or humble” (Behind the Name). Eventually, he was humble unto the Lord, but in his convictions, he was anything but small.

“… every one of us has a mysterious name, expressing our own meaning in the designs of God, even unknown to us here below, and to be revealed beyond this life,” wrote Fr. Hugh Barbour, O. PRAEM.

Until the day we learn God’s special endearment for us, we know we all share this one distinction for which we can strive each moment: Child of God.


Copyright 2024 Mary McWilliams
Images: Pixels.com

New American Bible Revised Edition. New Jersey: Catholic Book Publishing Corp. 2010. St. Joseph medium size edition.
Catechism of the Catholic Church. New York: Doubleday. April 1995. First Image Books Edition.
Behind the Name. https://www.behindthename.com/name
Burke-Sivers, Harold. “Daily Reflection.” 20 April, 2023. United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. https://bible.usccb.org/podcasts/video/2023-04-20-reflection-270
Barbour, Hugh. “Names Written in Stone.” Catholic.com. 23 Aug. 2020

 

audience at CWCL2024

Sanctifying Habits: What is God Asking of Me Today?

Sanctifying Habits: What is God Asking of Me Today?

Habits and routines are such strange things. When I’m establishing them, it feels like dragging a screaming toddler uphill in the snow, and then breaking them is as easy as that same toddler falling asleep in her car seat the minute she’s strapped in. Seriously. I can work for months and months and solidify a productive routine, and the moment that something throws me off, it’s like I’m starting from scratch again.

The crazy thing is that this is true even if I plan and take time for a valid reason. I allow myself a break from writing when I have family vacations or I recognize my need for rest. I am a wife and mom before I’m a writer, and when my family needs me, I let my writing habits fall away.

When I allowed myself some honest silence with Jesus about this, I realized I’m struggling with feelings of inadequacy. I see what other people are doing. I hear about their book launches and new contracts. I watch their reels on social media and see their following count. I read the lives of the saints, and their virtue seems unattainable. I can’t possibly be as amazing as Joan or Faustina or Thérèse. When I see what everyone else is accomplishing, I feel like I’m falling short.

In His mercy, God spoke to me in the silence. He told me that He doesn’t want me to be like Joan or Faustina or Thérèse—because I’m not them. I’m Maria. And He has a special, completely unique mission for me. I can’t possibly be like any of the great saints, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be a great saint in my very own way.

Theodore Roosevelt wisely said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I can’t count the number of times I’ve shared a version of this quote with my kids. It comes out of my mouth in ways like, “Be grateful for what you have”; “If all you think about is what you’re missing out on, you’ll be miserable”; or “Look at what you do have! Focus on that!” Not surprisingly, I don’t have the eloquence of Theodore Roosevelt, but the sentiment is the same.

If only I had the ability to take my own good advice. I can be astonishingly wise when it comes to parenting and remain quite dense when it comes to myself.

Learning about the great saints of our Faith is a joy. Having powerful intercessors in Heaven whom I can call on during my difficult times is an unmatched blessing. Feeling inspired by their willingness to give everything to Christ is, well, inspiring.

Thinking I’m failing in my vocation because my life doesn’t look like theirs? Now that is worthless. A complete waste of time and energy. I heard a priceless gem while listening to The Endow Podcast this week:

God doesn’t recycle.

God is constantly creating anew. Every single snowflake is unique. No two flowers are identical. And no one else in the entire history (or future) of the world had or will have the same soul, experiences, thoughts, ideas, disappointments, relationships, situations, creativity, frustrations, or wonder as me. I’m the one and only me.

God loves me so much He not only created me, but He then continues to give me encounters for my own sanctification. God deeply desires for me to become a great saint, and He knows exactly who I am, what I’m capable of, and what my circumstances are. He calls me today from right where I am.

So today I am composing an imperfect blog post and getting myself back on track. What is God asking of you today?

© Maria Riley 2024

The Power of a Smile

The Power of a Smile

When my kiddos were young, the local YMCA was a saving grace. My four daughters, ages four and under, loved playing in the childcare area almost as much as I loved a chance to pee uninterrupted. My mom-friends also belonged to the Y, so it was as much a playdate for me as it was for the kids.

At the YMCA, I learned that I do actually enjoy working out when it’s not a mandatory school class. I took various group classes that met my social needs and allowed me to try new exercises with no pressure or obligation. I remember especially fondly that if it weren’t for the YMCA, I may not have showered at all when my husband traveled for work. My twins are cute, but I couldn’t take my eyes off them for a minute!

Naturally, when I learned that my husband’s job was moving us to a new state, one of the first things I searched for was if our new town had a YMCA. To my great relief, it did. I’m fairly sure the girls and I trekked over there to become members on our second day there.

But everything was wrong with the new Y. My kids were scared of the new childcare area because they didn’t know the staff yet. They didn’t offer my favorite exercise classes. The cardio room was separate from the weights room, and both felt cramped: the building was regularly crowded, and my preferred machines weren’t available; I had to sign up for a turn on the cardio equipment and could only do thirty minutes at a time.

The worst part was how unfriendly everyone was, from the staff to my fellow patrons. I didn’t know anyone, and no one talked to me. Aside from a quick greeting as I dropped off my kids in the childcare area, I wouldn’t speak to a single person. I distinctly remember feeling profoundly alone while surrounded by people. They just weren’t my people.

One day, while I moped around the YMCA, bemoaning how I didn’t have any friends or even get a friendly smile, I realized the fault was mine. I recognized that from the moment I put the car in park, I hung my head and only looked at the ground. It was no wonder no one ever smiled at me. I didn’t give a single person I passed the opportunity.

At that moment, something changed in me. I decided to not be the reason for my own misery. I decided to lift my head, look everyone I passed in the eye, and smile. The most amazing thing happened: people smiled back.

I felt less alone from that day forward, not because I immediately made friends (which, I’m sad to report, didn’t happen overnight) but because I was connecting with other human beings. God created us in His image and likeness, and He created us for relationships. We aren’t meant to go through this life alone.

I learned some valuable lessons from that experience, the most notable being that I am responsible for my behavior. I can’t begrudge the unfriendliness of others when I don’t make the effort myself; something as small and simple as a smile can make a huge difference.

When I walk around looking people in the eyes and smiling, my soul is transformed. Even if I’m struggling and my life isn’t as simple and easy as I’d like, when I smile, I allow the joy that Christ offers to penetrate into my heart. What’s more, my smile is returned more often than not with a smile from a stranger’s face, further filling my soul with happiness.

These days, I don’t have to think about it: I’m always smiling. I love looking at other people and greeting them warmly. Each person I pass is a fellow creation of God, and I am blessed to be in her or his company. My kids often comment on how friendly I am—I get a chance to remind them that every person we pass has dignity and worth, regardless of her or his outward appearance. In this small, simple way, I get to share Christ’s joy with others.

If you’re feeling down or isolated, the most powerful tool you have requires only a few muscles in your face. It’s guaranteed to make you feel better, and chances are, your joy will spill into the strangers you pass. All you have to do is smile.

©Maria Riley 2024

Stumble onto a Forgotten Priest’s Homilies, and Wind Up in a Successfully Reflective Lent

Ever feel like you’ve failed Lent? You enter the season ambitiously on Ash Wednesday, receiving the smudged cross on your forehead, determined to read through the New Testament or Exodus at a measured pace, only to get stuck on a confusing passage and give up … for now.

A local parish offers an evening Bible study, but when the day comes, you’re too exhausted from work. Maybe next week, you think, but then the six weeks go by and you’ve missed the whole thing. You try online reflections, but you just breeze through them over morning coffee. You chastise yourself for being undisciplined or for refusing to take your spiritual life seriously. But maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. A more relaxed approach, such as leisurely readings by a forgotten, but once beloved priest could deepen your faith, self-reflection, and ultimately your relationship with God.

Fr. Ronald Knox is little known to 21st Century Americans in favor of other popular English converts such as St. John Henry Newman and GK Chesterton, but in his time, Fr. Knox was regarded as one of the most influential and prolific Catholics of the past century. He is a contemporary of Chesterton and an Oxford neighbor of CS Lewis, and February 17 marks the 136th anniversary of his birth. Raised in the Anglican tradition, even becoming an Anglican minister, the good father followed in his country’s stead, not because he believed it was the perfect way, but because he wanted to bring the Church of England back to Rome. When he realized his ambition was futile, he converted to Catholicism at the still tender age of 29.

Fr. Knox was much sought after as a speaker, preacher, and retreat facilitator for his way of bringing depth to simple concepts and simplicity to the profound. His self-deprecating humor, orthodox theology, and insight into the human condition found its way into countless published homilies, broadcasts on the BBC, and even detective novels. He is also highly respected for his English translation of the Bible, known as the Knox Bible.

One collection of his homilies that might elude a mainstream audience is his title, The Priestly Life. Originally published in 1958 and re-released in 2023 by Cluny Media, this compilation of 16 retreat talks addressed to priests could just as easily be called The Saintly Life because it speaks to the saintliness we are all called to live. With the wisdom of a compassionate confessor, Fr. Knox, who seems to know what’s inside the flawed heart that yearns to be whole, begins with the Alpha and Omega framed in Biblical history, then gently leads the reader (or listener, originally) to realize his sinful nature, bringing him to humility and repentance. Catholic theologian and author John Janaro quotes Evelyn Waugh’s in a 2021 essay, calling the priest and his ministry an “apostolate of laughter and the love of friends” (Janaro).

His chapters in The Priestly Life address so many of the “No, not me” sins: sloth, apathy, grumbling and complaining, blaming. In “Murmuring,” he engages the reader with a compelling story of the Israelites venting and complaining about Moses and God. You read along, nodding and chuckling, amazed how much they sound like your co-workers. He goes on to explain why the grumbling, a “very difficult sin to avoid,” is a three-fold sin against God, neighbor, and self and realize, “That’s me!” and feel an urgency to go to Confession.

“Part of the reason why God put you into the world was to exercise the patience of others by your defects; think of that sometimes when you are going to bed” (pg. 81).

He speaks to his brother priests in “Accidie” about a “tepidity” of spiritual life. “What I mind about is not so much that I seem to get so little out of my religion, but that I seem to put so little into it. Or perhaps I should put it this way: what I mind about is that I should mind so little” (pg. 90). He also addresses a type of malaise, of going through the motions. The scenarios sound much like ruts that most everyone, at some point and in honest moments, experiences in marriage, work, and life in general. “All of the savour has gone out of his priesthood; he sometimes thinks, even out of his religion. Was he, perhaps, not meant to be a priest … is it possible that he has made a mistake?” (pg. 89).

Fr. Knox, in other chapters, addresses perseverance, death and obedience. In his piece on the Blessed Mother, he eschews “Mariology” and sounds more like a loyal knight honoring his heroine queen. While each chapter serves as retreat on its own, they also impart an appreciation into a priest’s very human life by which we might gain more compassion and understanding of a demanding and sacrificial choice, Wouldn’t that help make a successful Lent?


Copyright 2024 Mary McWilliams

Knox, Ronald. The Priestly Life. 2023. Cluny Media. Providence, Rhode Island.
Janaro, John. Monsignor Ronald Knox. 2021. Magnificat. Catholic Education Resource Center.
Photo Credits: Keegan Houser and Eduardo Braga

Finding Treasures in Pockets of Time

 

Finding Treasures in Pockets of Time

When I run into other moms at church, in the neighborhood, or at the grocery store, I find that I am having the same conversation over and over. I say, “Hi! How are you?” and she replies, “Busy!” and then delves into her litany of appointments and tasks that fill her schedule, and I reply in kind by agreeing and sharing my own over-scheduled obligations. We end our rushed conversation and run off to get something else done.

Sometimes there are things in our lives that we need to purge. It may not always be easy to remove it, but often, we are aware of the things that consume our time and give us nothing in return. I find, in my life, those things are typically self-centered, and when I choose to live the way Christ wants me to, I am given the strength to remove those things that take up too much of my life.

As mothers, though, so much of our life is spent in service to others. We are chefs, nurses, house cleaners, and chauffeurs, not to mention boo-boo kissers, story time tellers, snuggle buddies, and behavior correctors. Then our mother-in-law comes to visit, and we must be the perfect hostesses. The list goes on indefinitely, but the hours in the day do not.

How do we find time for Christ when we are pulled in so many different directions? It is especially difficult when these many different directions are for good things for our families. From time to time, I have found myself wishing for the seemingly simple life of a nun, especially when I am craving time and intimacy with our Lord but finding the demands of my vocation of motherhood to be standing in my way. But then I remember the beautiful gift of my calling, and I have worked to grow in my relationship with Christ within the demands of my schedule.

I rarely have large blocks of time, but I am regularly gifted with what I call “pockets of time” throughout the day. I have five minutes here or there, often while I am waiting for something, that I used to spend scrolling on my phone or otherwise distracting myself. Now, I try to be purposeful with these pockets of time and turn to God in prayer, even if I don’t have time to read the daily readings or journal in my Bible study workbook.

I used to get stuck in my growth toward Jesus because if I didn’t have 20–30 minutes to sit down, read, pray, and reflect, I wouldn’t do anything at all. Then, by the end of the day, I would feel like a failure because my spiritual time was just something else that I didn’t get done today (along with a shower or getting that laundry from a week ago folded). Somewhere along the way, I realized that God never gave me a set of expectations for how and when I have to pray. That came from my own unrealistic expectations, compounded by comparing myself to other women who seem to have it all together in their faith journeys.

Now, instead of dedicating 20–30 minutes to God in the morning, I turn to Him for a minute or two 20—30 times per day. Before I get out of bed in the morning, I say hello to the Lord, offer my day to Him, and ask Him to show me His will. When I begin a household chore, I offer it for someone in need. I pray for a moment before I start a workout, thanking God for the gift of my body, the temple which houses my soul and the Holy Spirit. I have learned that just a few moments is all it takes to recenter my day and draw closer to Christ.

The best part about approaching my prayer life in this way is how my spiritual life has deepened and grown. Previously, once I had completed my morning prayer time and reflection, I would check the “Time for God” box and then go on with my day. Now, by regularly recentering myself and refocusing on God many times throughout the day, I am able to let Him work in me and through me all day long. It is such a gift that God has helped transform my life so that my entire day has become a prayer.

© Maria Riley 2024